Alan spent the following couple of months studying with Fiza on weekdays and partying with Mownika on weekends.
As time passed, Fiza began to sense Alan's gradual withdrawal. Something felt off about him, though she couldn't quite pinpoint it. He seemed distracted, as if trying to escape her company.
One day, with a bright smile, Fiza suggested, "Hey, do you want to record another song with me?" She hoped to find an activity more engaging than studying to share with Alan.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked curiously.
"I was thinking we could record 'Stay' by Rihanna. I'll take the lead, and you can harmonize with me. I can play the piano for it, unless you prefer to..."
"Sure," Alan agreed.
"Let's go!" Fiza exclaimed spontaneously.
"Now?" he asked, surprised.
They made their way to the jam room, and Fiza began singing, her voice filling the space with its enchanting melody
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
I want you to stay
It's not much of a life you're living
It's not just something you take, it's given
Round and around and around and around we go
Oh, now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know
As Fiza's melodic voice filled the jam room, Alan's body jolted upright, caught off guard by the surge of emotions that swelled within him. The song seemed to unearth buried memories.
Surprisingly, his thoughts drifted to Mownika. In his mind's eye, he saw her hand reaching out, her eyes imploring him to stay the night. He shook his head vigorously, as if attempting to shake off the haunting image.
Yet, amidst the turmoil of conflicting thoughts, another voice resounded in his consciousness-a sharp reminder of Aarthy's biting words. "You have nothing to offer. Don't flatter yourself."
Concerned and sensing his distress, Fiza immediately stopped singing and hurried to Alan's side. She could feel his rapid breaths and gently rubbed his back, trying to provide comfort. Alan sank back into his seat, his head cradled in his hands. In a voice barely audible, he muttered. "What am I doing?"
Fiza, unsure of how to console him, sat beside him in silence, her hand resting on his shoulder.
As Alan finally lifted his gaze, his expression now hardened and he spoke in a dry, detached tone, "I need to go home."
As the Internal Exams grew closer, Fiza immersed herself in her studies, with Alan occasionally joining her in the library.
On weekends, she relished the opportunity to break free from the confines of campus life, venturing out with her friends. They explored the bustling shopping districts of Brigade Road and Commercial Street, indulged in delicious dosas at Sagar Samrat, and caught movies at local theaters.
The week leading up to their internal exams was a period of heightened stress. Fiza diligently prepared herself and emerged at the top of her class, proud of her accomplishments. Alan, on the other hand, settled for a score somewhere in the middle. While he seemed content with a passing grade, Fiza couldn't help but recognize his untapped potential, knowing he could achieve much more if he applied himself.
As the months dragged on, Alan found himself increasingly entangled in Mownika's lifestyle. Friday nights became a regular occurrence for him to stay over at her place. Mownika's apartment became a hub for parties on the weekends.
Soon, smoking, drinking, and the hazy ambiance of Netflix formed the backdrop of their shared experiences. The boundaries between intoxication and clarity began to blur, as Alan's nights became a kaleidoscope of substances and sensations.
The repercussions of this lifestyle began to manifest themselves in Alan's daily routine. Mondays arrived with a heavy cloud of hangovers, leaving him unable to attend his lectures. The pursuit of the next high consumed a significant portion of his thoughts, relegating his studies to the sidelines.
Before long, he found himself spending most evenings at Mownika's apartment, where the temptations of substances and sex intertwined.
In an attempt to navigate this spiral, Alan reasoned that he needed to find a more calculated approach. He cut back on alcohol and instead indulged in daily marijuana use, believing that he would be less likely to be caught driving high than driving drunk.
Fiza couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment as Alan continued to distance himself. Despite her numerous attempts to reach out and offer support, he remained elusive.
She diligently prepared copies of her notes, hoping to ease his academic burden, and extended invitations to study together. Once more, she suggested recording songs for their shared Instagram account. Alan accepted her notes, but the music seemed to have lost its allure for him.
Fiza recorded herself singing "You belong with me" by Taylor Swift, and sent it to him. He posted on Alizamusic, their shared Instagram account without giving her any feedback. She wondered if he had even listened to it.
And you've got a smile
That can light up this whole town
I haven't seen it in a while
Since she brought you down
You say you're fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?
If you could see that I'm the one
Who understands you
Been here all along
So, why can't you see?
You belong with me
Standing by and waiting at your backdoor
All this time how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
Meanwhile, in the hostel, Varsha couldn't resist the opportunity to say, "I told you so," although her tone held a touch of empathy. Fiza, on the other hand, was more concerned about Alan's well-being than her own feelings.
Though their time together had been relatively short, Fiza vividly remembered the positive aspects of their friendship. Alan had consistently shown her respect, kindness, and understanding.
Fiza wrestled with the decision of whether or not to intervene before the situation escalated or Alan ended up getting hurt. She even entertained the thought of reaching out to Mownika, urging her to cut Alan loose for his own well-being.
She couldn't forget the moments of vulnerability she had witnessed when Alan had let his walls down. She remembered how lost he had seemed when they had been alone together in the jam room and he had mumbled "What am I doing?"
But the fear of his reaction and the possibility of pushing him further away held her back, leaving her feeling trapped in a difficult predicament.
After their second Internal Exams, the situation reached a breaking point. Alan's performance was abysmal, having failed all three subjects with shockingly low scores. Fiza knew she couldn't stand by any longer and decided to take matters into her own hands.
When Fiza noticed Alan's absence from classes in the following days, she grew even more concerned. Determined to confront him, she obtained his address from Vineet and took an autorickshaw to his house over the weekend.
With Alan's Anatomy "blue book" in hand, which displayed a meager score of 10 out of 60 and a discouraging remark of "very poor, come see me," Fiza knocked on his door. Alan's mother answered, curious about the unexpected visitor and questioning whether this girl was responsible for her son's misery and negative influence.
Alan's mother alerted him that someone had come to see him, but Fiza didn't wait for him to come to the door. Instead, she stormed past his mother and entered his room. Alan, engrossed in watching WhatsApp videos, sat up abruptly upon seeing her.
"What are you doing, Alan?" Fiza asked firmly, her voice filled with concern. Alan's eyes narrowed in response. His mother stepped outside, not wanting to interfere but remaining near the slightly ajar door.
"What are you doing?" Fiza repeated, her tone unwavering. Alan stood up, and she threw his blue book at him. "Really?" she questioned, her disappointment evident.
Alan grew angry. "It's none of your business," he retorted. Fiza, resolute in her stance, countered, "Well, it is. You are my friend."
"I don't want to be your friend anymore," Alan snapped through clenched teeth.
"I don't care," Fiza retorted. "That's enough. I don't know why you're doing this, but it has to stop."
"What?" Alan asked, though he knew exactly what she was about to say.
"The drugs, the alcohol, the parties," Fiza stated firmly. "Your thing with Mownika."
"Get out of my house," Alan shouted, his anger escalating.
"No," Fiza refused, standing her ground.
In a fit of rage, Alan tried to push her out of the door. Fiza stumbled and fell, banging her shoulder against a wooden cabinet. "Ouch!" she exclaimed, wincing in pain. However, Alan loomed over her, his demeanor cold and heartless. "Get the hell out," he commanded.
Alan's mother entered the room, her hand on her heart in disbelief at her son's actions. Before she could intervene, Fiza rose to her feet. Fueled by anger and determination, she overcame her fear.
Alan couldn't fathom that Fiza had entered his house and was openly questioning him. Shouldn't she, as his friend, accept him with all his flaws?
Fiza approached his bed and began uncovering his sheets. Alan attempted to stop her, tugging at her hand to prevent her from touching his belongings. Wincing, she shook him off, and he reluctantly let go, afraid of causing her more physical pain. Fiza proceeded to pull out packets of marijuana from his belongings.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Alan yelled at her, his frustration mounting. She then opened his drawers and emptied cigarette boxes and beer cans from his desk, throwing them all into a pillowcase.
Alan tightly gripped Fiza's arm, his emotions swirling. He braced himself for yet another round of accusations, expecting to be told once again that he was "good for nothing," "weak," "bad," and "unworthy of any kind of relationship".
But instead, Fiza locked eyes with him, her voice gentle. "Don't you see?" she asked. "This isn't you."
She gently reached out and touched his cheek, her touch sending a wave of warmth through him. "You are so much more than the choices you've made," she said, her words penetrating deep into his being. It was as if her words had found a crack in his walls and managed to slip through.
His demeanor shifted, and he trembled with a mix of emotions. He loosened his grip on her.
"You can do better than this, Alan," she continued, her voice filled with conviction. "You are so much more than who you seem to think you are. You just have to believe that."
Shaking his head, he sat down on his bed, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting thoughts and emotions. Fiza knelt in front of him, cupping his face in her hands once again, her touch comforting and reassuring.
"I don't know why you're hurting, but drugs and alcohol won't fix it," she said firmly, her eyes locked with his.
"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice unwavering. Alan found himself nodding, confused yet touched by her kindness.
Fiza took the initiative to help Alan's mother clean up his room, searching for any remaining substances and ensuring they were properly disposed of. Alan remained seated on his bed, seemingly lost in his thoughts, his expression distant.
Later, Fiza joined Alan's family for dinner and discovered the shared connection of their Kerala roots. She impressed Alan's father by conversing in Malayalam and sharing humorous anecdotes from old Malayalam movies. Throughout the meal, Alan remained mostly silent, his mind still burdened.
After dinner, as they cleared the table together, Fiza made a decision that surprised even herself. "I'm staying here tonight," she announced, her voice determined. She knew about the party at Mownika's house and sensed the temptation that Alan would face to attend.
**********************************************
Author's note
How far would you go to help someone you care about?
How are you liking the story so far?
I have attached the link to "you belong with me." It's one of my all time favorites. Yup, major Swiftie here.
Please vote and comment!
❤️Faiza